A moment later, the library door opened. Ian’s call was done—but my thoughts were already on the morning, and the conversation that couldn’t be put off any longer.
CHAPTER 9
Isat in a booth at the Star Diner, hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had already gone lukewarm, waiting for Amy.
Morning light streamed through the front windows, catching on chrome and polished tabletops, the familiar hum of clinking dishes and low conversation settling around me. Normally, breakfast with Amy meant laughter first, serious talk second. Today, I had a feeling it would be different.
When I told Ian last night that I was meeting her, he’d reminded me—gently but firmly—of what he’d already made clear.
“I don’t want to know anything about Amy and Beau,” he’d said. “If I know, I’d have to tell Beau. He’s my best mate.”
I understood. Completely. I wouldn’t want him keeping something from me either. Still, I knew I’d miss talking it through with him afterward. Ian had a way of helping me see things clearly, even when I didn’t like what I saw.
My phone buzzed on the table… Amy.
Pep, I’m so sorry. I can’t make breakfast. I promise I’ll call later.
I stared at the text message for a moment, disappointment settling in.
I typed back a quick,Okay. We’ll talk later.Then set the phone aside.
Since I was already there, I figured I might as well eat. Zelda would be offended if I didn’t.
I was just about to catch Lara’s eye when movement near the door snagged my attention.
The guy stepped inside like he belonged there.
The man I’d been tailing yesterday. Same ball cap. Same quiet awareness. He scanned the diner quickly, not nervously.
My pulse kicked up and I waited to see if anyone would follow him in. Lara showed him to a corner booth at the far end of the diner. Had he come here to meet someone? I kept an eye on him and the door but no one else entered. The FBI surely would send someone inside to keep an eye on him unless—they lost track of him.
I lost him once. I wasn’t going to lose him again.
I slid out of my booth, picked up my mug, and walked straight toward him.
He looked up just as I reached the table.
“Mind if we chat?” I asked, already sliding in across from him.
His eyes narrowed slightly, not startled, not defensive. Anxious.
“I’m expecting someone,” he said, his eyes shifting nervously.
I smiled. “Your partner in crime?”
He looked nervous now and ready to bolt.
Not this time.
My fingers twitched toward my phone I’d laid on the table, instinct urging me to text my dad. But that would only have the guy bolting. Besides, my dad usually grabbed coffee at the diner in the morning, using it as a time to stay connected with the Willow Lake clan. If I could keep the guy talking, my dad just might show up.
Th guy stared at me as if trying to make sense of what I had said, then said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I leaned back, casual, and said, “I know you were part of the bank heist.”
That did it.
His hand tightened around his mug. “You a cop?”
